


Unbroken, Undefeated

by Solrosfalt



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Ken | Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/F, Heists, MinPallaWknd 2020, No dragons, does battling it out in an arena count as a meet-cute?, no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24198730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solrosfalt/pseuds/Solrosfalt
Summary: After the regicide of King Osmond and the disappearance of the Macedonan princesses, Palla joins the fleeing masses to bring her family to safety. To afford her journey north, she enlists as a challenger at a local arena, where the stakes turn out to be higher than she ever could have imagined.
Relationships: Lena/Julian (Background), Minerva/Paora | Palla
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Minerva/Palla Weekend 2020





	Unbroken, Undefeated

**Author's Note:**

> "Graphic Descriptions of Violence" doesn't really apply except for when the announcer hypes the crowd, but to be on the safe side I put the warning up there
> 
> anyway here's my piece for the prompt "Trust", minpalla style

The cheers carried through clouds of dust. With the rustle of wagons spraying the sand on the arena the crowd shouldn’t be able to see anything at all. Maybe they just cheered at the shadows moving like bears, like vipers, like lions – and at the victor still standing when the dust settled.

Palla wiped her sword with the hem of her bright red tunic. Such a color was too expensive for most people to wear, but Palla had gotten it for free in the army when she joined as a knight. She’d taken great care of that gift, but now she could soil it with blood all she liked. The proud color of Macedon didn’t amount to much anymore.

With the prince usurping the throne, the old king cold and dead and the princesses gone, Palla had done what anyone in their right mind would do. She’d deserted her position as a knight and brought her family with her.

And although she’d skipped meals to make ends meet, the little money she’d brought with her was forfeit. Smuggling and hiding were expensive things, with sketchy merchants comfortable to suck the desperate dry of every coin. Palla was far from alone in fleeing.

They’d managed to get this far, to the outskirts of the north. If only they could cross the border to Doluna and survive long enough to reach the Pyrathi archipelago… They could start a new life in neutral territory. Maybe one day she could fight back, but she was a nobody-knight, no one would rally with her. She knew better than to dream of such things.

Right now, her sole priority was to get Catria and Est to safety. She’d walked right up to the head broker at the small-town inn, asking for a challenger’s qualification at the arena down in the valley.

The head broker had taken one look at her knight garb, and grinned wide. “Who am I to say no to more meat for the grinder?”

Palla had managed through the qualifications of the arena with enough blood on her hands to stain a lifetime. Somehow this was dirtier than her former job. Far, far worse. Most knights had gone through their entire carrier by just looking menacing in their armor, and to suddenly be driven to kill… It shouldn’t be done lightly.

“My dear crowd”, the announcer cried out, and Palla shielded her eyes to block out the sun. In every nook and cranny of the mountain wall, seats and fences and crates had been arranged to create a space for the audience, and they all hollered at her like beasts. Some of them seemed to be genuinely cheering for her – those were the ones who’d betted on the challengers to beat the Champion, no doubt. The wide majority had betted on the Champion to prevail, and there was no shortage of rude remarks about her skinny arms or pathetic stance thrown her way. It wasn’t nearly as bad as drafting for knighthood, though. Palla barely heard them.

“We have a finalist!” The announcer continued, even though not many could have heard him. “What shall we call her? Perhaps Palla… the Unbroken!”

Palla grimaced at the unoriginality. There had been at least five ‘ _Unbroken_ ’ in the past few weeks from what she’d heard from Catria, who'd been trying to catch up on arena gossip to give Palla an edge.

She drew a deep breath. It didn’t matter what they called her. She’d walk out of there with a sack of gold in her arms, no other option possible.

The doors to the outside grounds opened, and Palla gave a wave to the mix of boos and cheers around her, before she walked out onto the cool bare stones of the mountain path.

The crowd wasn’t allowed in the back. It had one narrow path up the mountain where supplies to the fighters were shipped up and down, where the brokers and workers could walk without fear for being crowded. It led to the little town overseeing the valley, the last town before reaching border patrols. Palla itched to just run toward it, and onward – she could find a way, before it was too late to sneak past. Before king Michalis sharpened the defense keeping his people within his kingdom, before those loyal to him started hunting deserters for sport—

It wasn’t possible. Palla desperately needed the gold. So instead of running, she took a mug and chose a shady corner to sit down.

She rested her head against a wall, sour mead in her left hand. She wondered how Catria was doing, trying to melt into the crowd with Est at her tail. She had joked about putting a leash on Est’s belt to keep track of her, something Est hadn’t appreciated. Being twelve, Est didn’t appreciate any of the sacrifices they’d been forced to do, but even she understood the danger they were in.

Palla watched the murmur of other challengers, waiting for their turn to kill each other for a chance of fame and gold. Once a week, this arena did three rounds of fighting during one day. Whoever was reigning Champion had to face three challengers in a row, and the mere thought made Palla exhausted.

With the influx of deserters, the arena overflowed with challengers trying to earn enough coin and leave the kingdom… And that meant the brokers could maximize the stakes by making these fights go to the death. That drew a crowd for sure.

Palla felt sick. There was just the Champion left, and then she could leave this place. Or she might very well _never_ leave, as she could end the day in the same grave as the former challengers, but she didn’t think that way. How could she face her parents if she let Catria and Est witness her get torn to pieces? That would leave them with unspeakable trauma. She couldn’t do that to her sisters.

She’d heard about the Champion before. The Undefeated, they called her, with a four-month winning streak. Even when the arenas had shifted to fights to the death, their Champion had come out on top every single time.

Doing the math, there was a lump in Palla’s belly. She wouldn't lie. She looked up at the masses of the tents along the mountain path and got to her feet.

She found her ways through the rows, and stopped in front of the Champion standing by the head broker’s side.

The reputation proceeded her, so Palla should have known what to expect, and yet Palla felt like curling into a ball at the sight of her. The Undefeated was too tall for the tent, so she stood outside, a guard dog with armor-plated muscle, a battering ram with a face made of metal.

…A _literal_ face of metal. Her helmet covered her all the way to her chin, steel bent to make room for the nose and the mouth like a cruel line, her eyes black holes made of tightly woven fabric. Her neck was covered by chainmail, connected to the rest of her armor that rustled when she moved to look at Palla.

“If you’re here thinking I’ll pay you before you deliver, forget it”, the head broker sneered at Palla. 

“All or nothing”, Palla echoed. “I’m fully aware.”

“And if you’re here to threaten me, don’t bother”, the broker continued and jabbed a thumb at the Champion beside him. “Unless you wanna have a _talk_ with the Undefeated.”

“I’d like to, actually”, Palla told him, and the broker laughed harshly.

“Then she’s all yours!” He looked toward the Champion and grinned. “Hey, whatever you do, don’t kill the challenger outside the arena – we need an _audience_ for your bloodlust.”

The Champion didn’t answer, and the broker laughed harder. At least he was polite enough to turn his head the other way when Palla moved closer to speak to the Champion.

“I have two sisters”, Palla informed her. “I’m all they have, so if I die, they will be left alone. I’d just like you to know that.”

“If such sob-stories bothered me, I wouldn’t be here”, the Undefeated said with a bored, metallic voice. “Whatever you’re trying to do, it won’t work.”

Palla did her best to ignore the snickering broker and stared the Undefeated into her black fabric-covered eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

The Undefeated didn’t move a muscle. Palla might as well have spoken to a wall.

She backed away slowly, and when she got no further response, she turned her back. It’d been worth a try, at least.

Within an hour, Palla stood in the center of the arena again.

“We have the Challenger, another deserter! Palla the Unbroken!” the announcer cried.

Palla lifted her sword in acknowledgement.

“Not loyal enough to continue her chivalrous service, she’s chosen to join her kind in a dirty unnamed grave in the back!”

The crowd hollered. Palla sighed.

“And now, please welcome your very own Champion! You once saw her rip a man’s leg from under him with her own hands! You once saw her crush a ribcage like porcelain with her chain! You once saw her split a giant with her axe! My dear crowd, I give you The Undefeated!”

Palla grimaced. Surely, those were exaggerations. She hoped this didn’t make Catria and Est nervous, though that hope died as soon as she saw Catria push herself halfway over the fence on a balcony above. Est was slung on her back with her arms around her, face all scrunched up. She was crying, no doubt about it.

She couldn’t hear a thing over the rumbling crowd, even though Catria screamed until she was red in the face. Palla could read on her lips well enough.

_“GET OUT OF THERE!”_

Palla spared a look over her shoulder. There was no way out. Every door was under lock and key. The only way to leave was to kill the metal monster before her.

Palla breathed deeply and dug her feet into the sand, her sword heightened and ready.

She would win this. She didn’t fight for her own sake, she fought for the survival of her family – what did the metal monster fight for? Self-preservation? A sick thirst for blood?

The Undefeated looked lonely as she shrugged the chain connected to her axe to the ground, sending ripples through the ground all the way to Palla. There was no question of her strength, but surely, Palla could prevail. For the sake of her sisters, she could do anything.

The Undefeated shrugged her axe free from the ground and arced her arm so the chain whipped through the air toward Palla. Abandoning her battle stance, Palla dropped to the ground. The chain whooshed by above her like a crack of metal lightning.

Palla was quick and strong, but none of those things could set her apart against this opponent. All Palla had to rely on was her training. She hadn’t neglected it for a single day, she had perfect control over her body, her sword a part of her being.

She pushed herself up to standing in one graceful movement and stepped in on the offensive.

The Undefeated used the back of her hand to aim her counter. She wasn’t trying to kill, just to stun and make the fight be more entertaining. Palla skidded into the sand again and hit the hilt of her sword into her opponent’s chin.

She didn’t even make a dent. How could she fight something that was _this_ fortified? She had to get rid of the Undefeated’s armor, somehow.

Palla didn’t hear the sounds of the crowd anymore. All that existed was the giant before her as she locked Palla’s knee with her foot with surprising grace and control. This one knew the techniques the knights were taught – was she perhaps another deserter?

Didn’t matter. Palla let herself fall, and with that momentum she struck her sword into the notch between chainmail and armored mask. Then, she twisted.

Her back thudded into the ground. The helmet crashed down right beside her torso. The Undefeated’s defense successfully penetrated. This was her chance.

She rolled and got to her feet, ready to slash through a cheek or an eye—but her opponent had backed away.

The Undefeated had hurried to cover her face with her hand, hunched over and grunting. Eyes like molten iron stared back at Palla, and that gaze changed everything.

Only one family had eyes like those.

“You’re the—”

Palla wasn’t allowed to continue. The eldest princess of Macedon hurled herself at Palla with full force, but her strike was weakened by the fact that she still insisted to cover her face. Palla managed to lock her axe with her sword, and so they stayed, edges trembling near pulsating throats.

“Don’t do this”, Palla gasped at her. “I can protect you!”

“I highly doubt it”, the princess shot back.

“It’s my duty to!” Palla insisted. “I deserted because I couldn’t stand behind your brother, I ran because I thought there was no one else of the family left to serve—”

“There isn’t”, the princess snarled. “Talking won’t save you. I’ve been stuck in this arena for months; I know how it works. One of us has to die.”

“Doesn’t have to be that way”, Palla said. “If we could get those doors open, we could just leave—”

It wasn’t a hit, more like a hard shove, but it still sent Palla sprawling. So, that was that. She _would_ die here, after all.

Except the blow never came. She got up into a confused half-sitting, still dazed from the impact.

The Undefeated had fallen to her knees, clutching her face. Maybe Palla had managed to cut her face as well when she pried the helmet off her head. She’d been so certain she hadn’t drawn blood, and even if she had, why would a scratch incapacitate such a hardened warrior?

“There will be extras”, her opponent mumbled to Palla and crawled closer. “There will be extras, and to send them in, they have to open the doors. That’s our window.”

Palla couldn’t find words. Nor did she have to, because the announcer’s boomed over the arena.

“Uh-oh”, they chuckled. “Looks like our Champion took a hit! What do you say, shall we treat her with some backup?”

The cheers rumbled. Palla instinctively grasped for her sword, staring into eyes that burned their way into her like a scorching hot fire.

Was this part of the circus? Why would the princess trust her, a washed-up nobody, when it would be much easier to just kill her and take the reward? Palla had barely believed herself when she’d spoken of running away, but…

 _I’ve been stuck here for months_ , the princess had said. Did that imply her being a prisoner? How could anyone lure themselves to believe they could keep one such as _her_ in chains?

“I planned to do this in the last battle tonight”, the princess admitted. “But it might as well be now. It’s time to go.”

The five doors opened, and five backup challengers grinned and flexed at the crowd. One of them was interrupted pre-emptively as the chain of the Undefeated whipped past him and got stuck in the door before it closed. And in the next moment, the princess had put her helmet on again and begun to run.

Palla turned her head, aiming her sword at the closest backup soldier. She had to run, too—but her sisters, how would they find her?

She didn’t need to wonder. It was a high fall, but Catria hurled herself over the fence and struck down into the sand, Est right behind her. None of them had ever been afraid of heights or falling, being born in a mountain village.

Catria let out a war cry and had her tiny all-purpose knife out of her belt, waving it in the direction of the backup soldier. He could have skewered her with her lance, but thankfully he wasn’t fast enough to do so before Palla’s sword struck through his ribs. He fell dead to the ground, though there was still the problem of facing four others like him.

“They’re cheaters!” Catria yelled at her, with all the indignant anger of someone terrified of losing someone dear.

“Then let’s cheat them back!” Est called, her hands balled into fists. “Kick their butts!”

“Definitely _not_ an option”, Palla answered, breathing hard. She took Est’s hand, trusting Catria would follow without needing such a firm grip, and then Palla ran.

She ran because her life depended on it. She ran because there was a limit to what one person could do in a day, and she wouldn’t stay in this arena for a second longer. She ran because in the wisp of a moment, she’d seen a purpose unfold before her.

They crashed through the door. Palla had expected resistance, but all she found were corpses.

She didn’t look at them for very long, but at least now she knew the horrifying tales the announcer had mentioned when he’d introduced the Undefeated were all true.

Yet Palla had come out of that pit alive… Maybe not on skill alone. She hesitated when she neared the head broker’s tent – she’d come here for the gold, and if she ran without it, she’d have done all that killing in vain; but someone had beat her to it.

“I know where your sister is”, the head broker spat, loud enough to carry over to Palla. “She’s going to pay for this—”

“No, she isn’t”, the bored, metallic voice of the Undefeated interrupted the broker. “You’ve had your guards outside an empty room all day, Zharov.”

“That’s impossible”, the head broker snapped, followed by the rustling and crashing sounds of resistance – and in a struggle between someone of the head broker’s build and his Champion, the outcome should be obvious.

“I know your identity”, the head broker continued, clearly desperate. “I could let it all slip to your brother and the two of you would be dead in a week, but if you just don’t hurt me, we can come to an agreement—"

Nothing more carried over, and maybe that was for the best.

Palla glanced over her shoulder, expecting people to hurry after them, but so far, there was no one. She stopped outside the head broker’s tent, unintentionally placing herself as a knight in wait of their liege. After years of training she simply placed herself that way while idle, though it seemed extra fitting now. The princess exited the tent, two sacks of gold pinched between her fingers of one hand, and giant axe with the attached chain slung over her shoulder.

“Palla the Unbroken”, the princess greeted her through the metallic echo of her mask. “I’m glad to see you got out of there, and with your sisters, I assume? I thought I’d clear a path, but danger’s not over yet, I’m afraid.” She turned her head to Est, and dropped one of the sacks of gold in her arms. “Can you carry this? It is _very_ important.”

Est’s face didn’t get any less horrified, but at least she was dragged out of her stupor by nodding.

“Why’s the _Undefeated_ all goody?” Catria whispered to Palla. “What’d you do?”

The princess pulled off her helmet and looked at her with tired, brazen eyes. “She promised to fulfil her vow and protect me”, she answered Catria. “I planned on pulling this off alone, but I’ve never been very capable… I’d be a fool not to take someone up on that offer, especially not someone as talented as your sister. Do call me Minerva, please. I don’t want to hear my gladiator name again for as long as I live.”

It was Catria’s turn to completely shut down. She merely stood and gaped alongside her equally dumbstruck little sister. Palla put her sword in her belt and gently shook both their shoulders.

“I know this is confusing”, she said, gently as she cold with her heart hammering in her chest. “But right now, we need to run, all right? Can you do that?”

None of them answered, but when Palla ushered them forward, they at least moved.

“Where are we going, your highness?” she asked as Minerva put her helmet on again and turned her back on the arena.

“I beg you to call me Minerva”, was the princess’ answer.

“I apologize, y—Minerva.”

They started a brisk walk up the mountain path to the small town. The arena was in uproar, yet still no one had come after them. Perhaps the four backups had started a fight amongst themselves, perhaps others in the audience had followed Catria’s and Est’s example and hopped down on the arena, hungry for a taste of the action themselves. Whatever the reason, Palla was relieved if she didn’t have to kill anyone else that day.

“We’re going to my sister”, Minerva explained. “And then I will finally fulfil my plan to bring her over to Doluna and onward.”

“The princess Maria”, Palla repeated to herself, having learned the names of the royals during her time as a knight. “I’m glad to hear she’s alive and well.”

“No thanks to me”, Minerva said harshly. “Ever since I stepped into this town, Zharov has had her followed. He threatened her in order to keep me in line.”

“Sounds like a bad dude”, Est muttered, still a bit dazed, but she always was remarkably quick to adapt.

“Indeed”, Minerva agreed. “He made a fortune with me as his Champion, which is why he every time I got a scratch on me, he sent for backup. I’d finally realized that feigning injury would be the perfect way to make my escape. Zharov expected me to turn on him, had plenty of measures to have me stay my hand, but during such a backup call he was truly vulnerable. And I couldn’t just run without confronting him, either, I had to keep him from… sharing my sister’s location with my brother.”

“You’re gonna do the same to us?” Catria blurted, to which Minerva’s cold fabric eyes turned to look at her.

“Not an unwarranted question, I suppose”, Minerva nodded. “It depends. Do you plan to have the princess Maria return to my brother’s clutches?”

Catria immediately raised her hands in defense. “Obviously not! We just want to leave this kingdom and get out to neutral land so we can live in _peace_. Whatever the princesses wanna do isn’t our concern, right Palla?”

“Very elegantly put”, Palla smiled at her, trying to loosen the panic with a half-hearted joke. “Although it kind of _is_ my concern, since I offered my knightly services to one of them.”

Catria glared at her, and if she could form words with her gaze, it would be something along the lines of ‘ _and that was a very stupid thing to do, if you ask me_ ’. Perhaps it was, Palla tried to respond with a look of her own. But she wasn’t going to turn tail and run again. The king Michalis had always been whispered about as a harsh man, and his recent choices had filled her with dread when she’d realized how little a life meant to him – and that was why she’d ran. The way people spoke of Minerva though… That was different. They said she was fierce but not cruel. They spoke of a giant carefully replanting herbs and flowers from the castle gardens to the rows of decorative pots in the capital streets. They spoke of the way she gave her little sister piggyback-rides almost everywhere they went, and the laughter they spread.

To be fair, it was difficult to imagine this woman with a bloodstained axe slung over her shoulder as anything even close to gentle or kind. And yet Palla would give her a chance.

“If I may – how did you free your sister, if you were under such surveillance?” Palla asked.

Minerva looked over her shoulder again. The arena was a distant murmur of chaos and shouts, and there were blinking lights as though people lighting torches to search for the runaways.

“I trusted”, Minerva answered simply. “There was this healer I met three days ago, passing by with a group of free-spirited merchants… which I think is to say they’re smugglers, but that’s not of much importance, since I too am a criminal to the crown at this point. While this healer kindly patched me up, she realized who I was… and she offered to help me. The next day she brought her betrothed, who’d managed to sneak past all guards and pick a pocket on the way, so he if anyone would be able to make my sister invisible. They swore they could get Maria out of the town unnoticed, and we agreed to the gambit, both of us. It was our best chance.”

“Kind of like how Catria was forced to kick a guard in the shin to get me out of my room when we escaped the castle”, Est offered.

“That’s not even remotely close to the same level of scary”, Catria sighed, but she straightened her back a little. “…Although yeah, I _did_ do that.”

There was a chuckle from beneath the metallic mask. “You’ve got two tough sisters, Dame Palla. I’m glad you came up to me and softened my heart before our battle.”

“I thought you said my sob-story didn’t affect you”, Palla said with her hands over her back, finally able to relax somewhat.

“Then I have become quite the actor”, Minerva answered.

They’d branched off the path, crossing the outskirts of the little town, and now they kept walking through the brushes. Palla’s shoes had sand in them, and it chafed against the soles of her feet. Her body ached. She’d battled more in a day than she’d done in her entire life. How had Minerva been able to stand this for months on end? She watched the outline of the armor-plated princess walking before her, awe and admiration surging at the pit of her stomach.

She’d made a series of spur-of-the-moment choices in just the last hour, and she usually detested impulsiveness. Yet she didn’t have any regret. She’d gotten out of the arena alive, both her sisters in tow, and with a sack of gold to support them for the rest of the journey… and she no longer felt like a useless soldier cast away into an endless, meaningless ocean. She was someone who’d won the personal respect of no one less than one of the lost princesses.

It was more than anyone could ask for, really. Perhaps it was too good to be true. She shouldn’t relax completely. Minerva certainly hadn’t. She’d grown more tense for each step, and quieter too.

Palla understood why when she spotted the small lights of a resting caravan at the end of the trees. This was the moment when Minerva would learn if her gamble had paid off or not.

Palla and her sisters forgotten, Minerva jogged onward and opened the door to one of the smaller wagons. Her face twisted in horror, and she backed out of there, her gaze searching the grounds.

“Maria!” Minerva looked around the corner of the little wagon. “Where are you?”

A small face appeared from the window of a wagon right beside Palla. The likeness was impeccable, except Maria looked tiny in comparison to her sister, and her face was rounder.

“Sister”, she smiled.

Maria’s confirmed safety clearly didn’t make Minerva any less anxious, as she pulled her helmet off her head with a panicked snap.

“You were supposed to be in the _blue_ carriage, Maria!”

“I was!” Maria defended herself, then pointed over her shoulder. “But it’s storytelling time!”

Two or three other faces appeared beside Maria’s, curious children of the travelling merchants.

“It’s a story about a prince and a dragon”, one of the kids shared, and Maria nodded excitedly.

“Lena has _books_ ”, she beamed. “This one even has pictures in it!”

“Woah”, Est called back and clasped her hands. “Can I join?”

Maria, despite never having seen any of them before, didn’t ask any questions, she just smiled wider. “Yeah! Hold on, though, I’m coming out.”

As promised, the little princess darted out of the carriage and hopped into her sister’s arms. The axe and chain were discarded when Minerva hugged her back, letting out a deep sigh.

“Sorry for scaring you”, Maria said.

“Little candle”, Minerva hiccupped. “It’s all right. I’m just glad to see you safe. No one followed you, right?”

“Nope”, Maria answered. “Mister Julian got me a really neat disguise, and I had to hide in a barrel of peas for a few minutes. All so that nobody could possibly see me!”

“I even went back to double-check”, a shadow said from behind the trees, before it stepped forth and revealed a young man with a crooked smile. “Not even the innkeeper had any idea she was gone.” He bowed, still smiling, as he reached out his hand and received the sack of gold from Minerva. “Your contribution is appreciated, Your Highness. Welcome to our humble caravan.”

Minerva nodded deeply back at him. “Thank you, Julian. Gold isn’t enough—I am in your debt.”

“Aw”, Julian said and rubbed the back of his head. “You should thank Lena, really.”

As if on cue, a woman with red hair hanging loosely down her shoulders peeked out of the storytelling-carriage.

“My”, Lena chuckled. “There’s no need for thanks. We did what anyone would have done.” She looked to the side and smiled at Palla and her sisters. “And you brought company, I see!”

Minerva cleared her throat. “Yes, this is Palla, my… My knight? And her sisters, Catria and Est. They’re in need of safe passage as well.”

Maria leaned into Minerva’s ear to whisper something, and that something had Minerva’s face turn red as a tomato. She gently put her sister down and picked up the axe instead.

“As far as I could tell, no one followed us from the arena”, Minerva said with a tense breath. “But it doesn’t hurt to get a move on ahead of time, right?”

“That is true”, Lena smiled and put the book in her hands on a shelf. “Kids, storytime will have to wait for a while, all right? Auntie Lena’s got to get us ready to leave.”

“Oh, can I help saddling the horses?” One of the kids called, and another chimed in.

Est, being the way she was, instantly beamed. “Hey, I’m a _pro_ with horses! I wanna help too!”

And Catria, being the way _she_ was, dutifully jogged after her little sister to keep an eye on her. Palla exhaled in a shaky breath, allowing the world to catch up to her, but it kept spinning slowly. Puzzle pieces that had been rocked out of place a month ago when she’d left her old life behind were sliding into place in a way she never thought they could.

She watched Minerva for a few heartbeats. The princess stayed standing outside the empty carriage, watching the children run after Lena, and then down on the helmet under her arm. She looked hesitant and conflicted, as if she considered putting it on again.

“Yours isn’t a face that should be covered by a mask”, Palla said, with fear of speaking out of turn stabbing into her. “I mean, no face is! I’d just thought I’d say I for one think _your_ face might be—” She stopped herself before she dug herself too deep, regretting that she’d opened her mouth. “Never mind me… I’m sorry for my unwarranted comment”, she finished.

Minerva looked back on her with an attentive gaze, deep in thought. “No, please. Go on.”

Palla cursed her tongue and stood silent for a few seconds, although that just made herself feel even stiffer. “You deserve to show your face”, she finally said, yielded herself to the fact that there was no way for her to avoid the awkwardness.

“Thank you”, Minerva smiled and looked back down on the helmet in her hands. “Though I’m afraid I feel... vulnerable without it. I had it made so I could blend in with my prison, and it shielded me. It’s strange to think I am free of its burden, but that I cannot let it go.”

Palla nodded awkwardly, but took the courage to step closer. If Minerva was to be her liege, she had to at least be able to talk with her without getting all tongue-twisted.

“So”, Palla said and cleared her throat. “This whole me-following-you went… really fast. So I thought…” She straightened and rested her hand on her sword’s hilt, angling her chin like a soldier should. “You can call me Palla. My weapon of choice is the sword. I graduated at the top of my legion during my training, and I had the honor to guard the royal stable once or twice. My parents died when I was nine, and I’ve cared for my sisters ever since. I am dutiful and I do not give up!”

“Are you listing qualifications?” Minerva smiled at her, a slight blush on her cheeks. “You’re already hired, Dame Palla. Although when it comes to a salary, I’m afraid I have very little to offer.”

Palla relaxed a little and shook her head. “If I reach the Pyrathi islands with both my sisters safe, I will have no need for any other payment.”

“The Pyrathi islands”, Minerva nodded. “I’d not planned for longer than getting Maria to Doluna… but I suppose building a life on neutral land doesn’t sound all that bad… Especially not with good company.”

Palla let out a strange chuckle that kind of sounded like a sob. Maybe the shock was finally catching up to her.

“I’m honored you’d consider me good company”, she said. “We hardly know one another.” 

“It’s true, I don’t know you, Dame Palla”, Minerva smiled at her, weighing the helmet in her hand. “But if you’d let me... There’s nothing I’d rather do. You’re brave, and skilled, and the little I know now, I admire.”

Palla let out another strange chuckle, and this time, Minerva mirrored her. Palla could hardly believe this was the same person as the one she’d faced on the arena. Maybe she’d lost all self-preservation, but she’d follow Minerva. It was her best chance to get out of Macedon and start over. And one day, perhaps she would stand beside this princess as she did right now, holding the banner of resistance. Fighting for justice, for freedom, for returning to what she’d once known.

But right now, she wanted nothing more than to create a new place to call home, and she would indeed not mind Minerva in that scenario, either. She was strangely sure of that.

_-A month later-_

On a ship set for the Pyrathi archipelago, Palla had decided to walk up to the deck and keep her liege company. Her sisters and Maria were all asleep, but she still had an hour or so before it was her time to go to bed. And she liked to spend that time up here with Minerva.

The princess had brought her helmet with her, but she had not worn it since the fateful day they had clashed. And now she let it rest on the railing.

Palla joined her in silence, merely looking up at her with a smile.

The dark of the night was the outside world, but there was firelight around her, lighting up a future she could never imagine and one she welcomed wholeheartedly. She wasn’t making a mistake, her mind perfectly attuned to the sparks around the warm summer air in her breath. She knew exactly what she was doing, and nothing had ever felt more right.

They were so close, Palla could see the specks of brown among the red in Minerva’s eyes. So gentle, so hopeful. Nothing like the furious fire she’d seen on the arena.

“Do you think”, Minerva said breathlessly, “that I could kiss you, Dame Palla?”

“Oh gods yes”, Palla whispered back. “Please do.”

The helmet fell into the water with a splash when Minerva moved in to press her lips against Palla’s. It sunk, deeper and deeper into the dark, endless ocean, and Minerva did not once look back after it.


End file.
